


Confessions

by soundofez



Series: A Series of Communications [1]
Category: Miraculous Ladybug
Genre: (Alya Césaire), (Ladybug), (Nino), Balcony Scene, F/M, Heartbreak, Love is complicated, Multi, Polyamory, Rejection, balcony scenes ABOUND, feelings are complicated, this is not a reveal fic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-04-07
Updated: 2016-05-30
Packaged: 2018-05-31 17:40:01
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 11,549
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6480250
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/soundofez/pseuds/soundofez
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>
  <em>There are at least two sides in every relationship.</em>
</p><p> </p><p>He tells her on a whim, in a moment of clarity or perhaps stupidity, when the playful quirk of her lips inspires him more than his heart can bear: <em>"Je t'aime, my Lady."</em></p><p>She hears him, but she doesn't understand, so she laughs instead. "Careful, silly cat. I might think you mean it."</p><p> </p><p>  <em>inspired by <a href="http://spatziline.tumblr.com/post/135492452226">a post by spatziline on tumblr</a>.</em></p>
            </blockquote>





	1. of a superhero

He tells her on a whim, in a moment of clarity or perhaps stupidity, when the playful quirk of her lips inspires him more than his heart can bear: _"Je t'aime, my Lady."_

She laughs, and the sound is light and teasing, as though she doesn't understand him. "Careful, silly cat. I might think you mean it."

He could back out. He _should_ back out, before something breaks— but he can't resist expressing himself when he's so close he can almost taste her tongue. "I _do_ mean it," he says lowly, intensely, leaning toward her over an extended baton, hoping fiercely that she can hear him, hoping fiercely that she will understand and _accept_.

She plants a finger against the bridge of his mask and pushes, instead, but now there is uncertainty in her gaze rather than annoyance. "I'm sorry, Chat Noir, I— I don't—" she begins to say, and her voice rings loud over the roaring in his ears. Her yo-yo is already cast as she bids him farewell: "I have to go."

"Ladybug," he calls, he _begs_ , and he hates the desperation in his voice, hates how it will torture her, so even as he starts forward, helplessly, like he might follow her, he doesn't. He clings to his baton, still extended, as the darkness swallows his Lady, and then he turns stiffly away, and then he flings himself in the opposite direction to guarantee that he won't see her unless she wants him to.

The sun set only an hour ago, and he doesn't want to go home yet. He wanders aimlessly, mindlessly, crossing and recrossing the Seine until he finds himself in a tree on the walk by the theatre, staring at murky lights reflecting off the river, his mind empty.

"Chat Noir?"

It's Alya. He stiffens, begins to turn his head to her, because he's still a hero of Paris, and a hero of Paris should talk to her civilians— but right now he's not Chat Noir, he's only Adrien shrouded under Plagg's powers, and he cannot bear the weight of his responsibilities.

He flees with the scarcest of glances at his classmate, leaping from tree to tree until he lands on the ground, and then he keeps running.

_Marinette_ , his whirling mind thinks suddenly, unbidden, perhaps because she and Alya are so intertwined in his mind. If it had been Marinette who had called to him, would he have replied? If he goes to Marinette now, will she listen?

It's Plagg's influence as much as his own that sends him dashing on all fours past the fountain of the Place du Châtelet and through the park in the Place des Vosges, Plagg's will that vaults him onto the balcony atop the Boulangerie-Pâtisserie to land with a thump behind Marinette Dupain-Cheng, who whirls around and stammers, "Ch-Chat Noir?"

"I'm sorry," he blurts, lifting his hands, palms forward. "I just— I don't know why I came, I just— M-may I speak with you?"

Marinette's mouth works soundlessly for an agonizing moment. "I-I suppose so?" she says finally, uncertainly, but she backs away as he leaps onto the railing to pace, his tread as light as he doesn't feel.

"I don't know why I'm here," he says miserably, by way of apology. "I confessed to Ladybug," he blurts, twirling precisely and walking the length of the banister again.

"Oh." She says nothing more, and he has no explanation for her beyond that. He struggles not to look at her, and eventually folds himself into a seated position and stares at the ground, because now that he's here he can't bring himself to leave. Finally, tentatively, she asks, "How... how was that?"

"She ran away from me," he says sadly, the words falling out of his mouth too eagerly as he looks up at her.

"So she rejected you." She isn't looking at him as she speaks, haltingly, deliberately. "You know? Maybe that was for the best. She might not even be the person you think she is..."

He puts a hand to his mouth as helpless, hysterical laughter bubbles from his throat. "You're right," he chokes out between giggles. "I... I don't even know her."

"See? You'll be— Chat Noir...?"

He doubles over, crumpled into himself, crying uncontrollably. Chat Noir's emotions were always closer to the surface, always freer, and he regrets that now. He's ashamed, so ashamed that Marinette has to witness this, but he can't hold the tears back, or maybe he's finally understood how hopeless his infatuation was and is.

Marinette's arms surround him, then, familiar and surprisingly strong for all that he can wrap his fingers around her forearm. "You really love her, don't you," she whispers, and her breath is a warm breeze against his temple.

Adrien nods.

* * *

Chat Noir cries himself out on Marinette's shoulder, thanks her, and bids her good night.

"If you ever need to, you can talk to me," she tells him, and he is too tired to be grateful, but he smiles at her anyway.

When he finally slips back into his room, exhausted, he releases Plagg at last and crashes into bed even as the kwami demands cheese. He's asleep midway through squirming out of his shirt, and when he wakes it is to wrinkled clothes and Nathalie knocking on the door.

Life goes on.

He runs into class late in freshly pressed clothes, where Mme. Bustier accepts a fumbling apology with a resigned sigh and Nino whispers, "Even Marinette was on time today!"

He shifts nervously at the mention of her name and doesn't look at her at all. Nino looks as though he wants to press, but subsides at a stern look from the teacher.

Alya prods Nino around lunch time, cheerful and innocent as though Chat Noir hadn't run away from her the night before, with only a simple request: "Do you boys want to grab some lunch?"

"Sure," Nino agrees easily, glancing at Adrien. "Got time, man?"

He's torn. Alya and Marinette have both seen him at his most vulnerable, and it presses on his mind even when they don't know— and after all, who would think that Adrien is the superpowered Chat Noir? At the same time, they're his friends, and he _wants_ to be their friends, _wants_ to spend time with them. "Yes," he says shortly, after a too-long pause.

He's still wrestling with the odd sensation of feeling _unable_ to talk to Marinette when Alya whisks Nino away. He only realizes his mistake as he is staring after them, as Marinette asks a question.

"Sorry, you said something?" he asks, mechanically, feeling his stomach dance with emotions that he cannot resolve without revealing himself as Chat Noir. He hopes he's not being rude— it's been difficult enough to befriend Marinette already.

"W-we're... eatery? We're looking f-for an eatery," Marinette says uncertainly, peeking up at him through her bangs in a way that Adrien abruptly finds endearing.

He blinks, trying to gather his scrambled mind. "Oh. Is..." _that what Alya and Nino have run off to do_ , he finishes mentally, shaking his head. "You're right, sorry, I'm just..." _...distracted by how you let me cry on you last night after Ladybug rejected me. Yeah, that was me, by the way._ He looks away from her again.

"I-love-you."

His heart beats, beats, beats. Marinette... loves him?

"Oh," he says, and his voice is not nearly faint enough for how astonished he feels as he looks at her. "Marinette," he says, and she looks away from him. "Marinette," he repeats, weakly, this time flooded with dread and concern, because he doesn't feel the same way, he's still in love with Ladybug, and because maybe Ladybug, too, had endured this agonizing worry for him when she had rejected him.

There's an awful tightness in his voice as he tells her, "I'm so sorry, Marinette, I—" _I'm Chat Noir and I just broke my heart and I love her still, even though she doesn't love me back—_ "I'm sorry, I can't."

There's an awful, wretched silence, and his worry builds until she finally replies, smoothly, distantly, "N-no, of course not. I'll go."

And she does, leaving him behind. There's something awfully familiar about watching her go, but this time he's on the other end, he's the one who had to turn her down, and isn't that just the perfect way to repay the girl he had used as a handkerchief?

He wishes he could return the favor. He _can_ return the favor. "Plagg," he hisses.

The kwami remains silent.

" _Plagg_ ," he repeats, angrily now, because the longer he's Adrien, the longer Marinette suffers alone, and because he needs to be Chat Noir so that Chat Noir can do what Adrien cannot. "Are you asleep?"

"I hear you," Plagg grumbles from his pocket. "What are you going to do? She'll fall in love with Chat Noir, and then where will you be?"

"That isn't how love works," Adrien growls. "Claws out!"

"Well, it's your problem," Plagg grumbles, and spirals into the ring.


	2. of a civilian

" _Je t'aime, my Lady._ "

She hears him, but she doesn't understand, so she laughs instead. "Careful, silly cat. I might think you mean it."

"I do mean it," he insists, leaning toward her over his baton, and his voice is solemn and devoid of any of his usual tomfoolery.

He's too close. He's been here, before, but he was smirking, then, and his eyes had been crinkled into a smile. Now the catlike grin is gone, and his eyes are wide and desperate.

She plants a finger against the bridge of his nose and pushes, _shoves_ , her voice too loud: "I'm sorry, Chat Noir, I— I don't— I have to go." Her hands have already cast her yo-yo, and she flees mid-word.

He calls after her as she flees, but he does not follow in spite of how his voice breaks. It confuses her more, because her heart is breaking for her partner, her Chat Noir, the boy she might have loved if her heart did not thud solely for Adrien, Adrien, Adrien.

She needs to be Marinette. Her transformation is unraveling, her compatibility with Tikki crumbling between the rivaling strengths of her loyalty and her love. When she returns home, Ladybug virtually explodes, the little red kwami shooting through the balcony trapdoor as Marinette collapses onto her bed.

"Marinette," Tikki begins, but Marinette cuts her off, her face buried in her bedsheets.

"No," she half-shouts, panicked. "What was he thinking? What— How do I treat him now? Tikki, _what do I do_?"

Tikki doesn't say a word, only presses against Marinette's temple with a body far too small to hug. Marinette trembles with the weight of what she's done, with the burden of running, with the pain of hurting one she cares for.

How long she stays like that, she's not sure, but her heart ties itself into knots in her chest, stretching time like putty. "Tikki," she finally whimpers.

"Let's go out," Tikki suggests quietly. Marinette shakes her head. "Not as Ladybug. Just onto the balcony."

So Marinette drags herself up through the skylight after her kwami and joins Tikki at the banister, gazing up at a lonely moon hanging in a clear but starless night. "Tikki," Marinette repeats, quietly, anxiety bubbling in her belly and into her throat, threatening to choke her, "What do I do about Chat Noir?"

Tikki tilts her head. Her eyes are bright and blue in the moonlight. "What do you want to do?"

" _I don't know!_ " The words burst out of her, startling herself with her own volume.

"You rejected him," Tikki states calmly.

Marinette slumps. "Yes."

"Why?"

"Because I love Adrien," she whispers. More and more, it sounds like an excuse, and she doesn't know how to feel about that. Her heart still races at the thought of Adrien, doesn't it? How odd, that Adrien makes her heart flip like Chat Noir while Chat Noir makes her heart warm like Adrien.

Because Chat Noir is her partner. She knows him better than she knows Adrien, even though, she realizes dully, she barely knows him at all— not his name, not his schedule, not even his favorite color. And Adrien— she doesn't know his lips on her hand or his hand on her waist or his footsteps on the rooftops. She doesn't know either of them.

Tikki says nothing, but gasps and flees under Marinette's collar in the instant before she hears a familiar thump behind her.

She whirls and stammers, "Ch-Chat Noir?" with her heart in her throat.

"I'm sorry," he apologizes, his hands lifting defensively, palms forward. "I just— I don't know why I came, I just— M-may I speak with you?"

He doesn't know. _He doesn't know._ "I-I suppose so?" she forces herself to say, finally, backing away as he leaps onto the banister and paces.

"I don't know why I'm here," he repeats miserably. "I confessed to Ladybug," he blurts, turning sharply.

"Oh." She doesn't know what else to say— she already knew that he had confessed, was the one he had confessed to. As the silence stretches tighter, he finally folds himself into a seated position and stares at the balcony floor, and she asks, fumblingly, "How... how was that?"

"She ran away from me," he tells her, the words spilling from his mouth in a fall so dejected that her heart throbs for him.

"So she rejected you," she replies numbly, her eyes fixed on the floor. "You know? Maybe that was for the best. She might not even be the person you think she is..." _She might be the person standing in front of you._

"You're right," he says shakily, his voice muffled. "I... I don't even know her."

She dares to glance back at him. "See? You'll be—" She chokes on her empty words, her chest bursting at the sight of his tears. "Chat Noir?"

He sways and crumples into himself, crying, her poor cat, crying over _her_. If Marinette ever doubted his love, she cannot doubt any longer. Everything he said to Ladybug, everything he did, all the hints that she ignored in favor of _a platonic friendship and partnership_ now pile together into a formidable painting of deeply romantic love.

Marinette wraps her arms around him unthinkingly, the space between them vanishing in so many small steps. "You really love her, don't you," she whispers, her lips pressed into his wild, soft hair.

Chat Noir sags over her, his sobs shaking his wiry frame. His chin digs into her shoulder when he nods.

He stays there for a long time, clinging to her, his heart slowly piecing back together in her embrace under the watchful moon. "Thank you, Marinette," he tells her finally, tiredly. His chin is still hooked over her shoulder until, with a reluctant sigh, he pulls slowly away. "Good night."

"Good night, Chat Noir," she replies in a whisper, and then on impulse, "If you ever need to, you can talk to me."

He smiles wanly at her before vaulting away. The Parisian night swallows him quickly, until Marinette is left staring at a blotch of darkness that might be Chat Noir or might be moonlight gleaming on a roof tile.

"I'm going to confess to Adrien tomorrow," Marinette decides abruptly, gazing after the hero's vanished silhouette.

Tikki's voice is small but clear as she pokes her head out of Marinette's collar. "Are you sure?"

"I have to," she says simply, climbing back down onto her bed. "For Chat Noir. If he can confess, so can I."

Tikki says nothing.

* * *

The determination Marinette had gathered clumsily last night is dripping from her heart like water through cupped hands. By the time she greets Alya on the steps of the Lycée, glancing nervously down the street in anticipation of Adrien's limousine, her heart is pounding. Had Chat Noir felt this way before he'd confessed to Ladybug? But the words had burst from him so suddenly and thoughtlessly that she suspects that he had not realized them until they were in the air. Maybe it has to be that way, she thinks despairingly. Maybe Marinette should hope for her clumsy tongue to confess on its own.

"Alya, I'm going to confess to Adrien today," she blurts, catching them both by surprise.

"Oh? What happened? Another gossip column speculating on his relationship status?" Alya teases with a fond laugh.

"I need to," Marinette says quietly, earnestly. "Push me? I'm afraid I'll lose my nerve."

"You know I will, and I know you won't," Alya promises. "You can do it!"

They wait on the steps until Alya finally insists that Marinette's attendance record is bad enough already, and Adrien skids in late with a bedhead that makes Marinette's heart pound.

Alya runs after the boys once they are dismissed for lunch, poking Nino's shoulder once she catches up. "Do you boys want to grab some lunch?"

"Sure," Nino agrees easily with a glance at Adrien. "Got time, man?"

Adrien blinks, looking a little lost. "Yes," he says abruptly.

"Where to?" Nino asks Alya, and she grins, looking sly.

"Let's make it a competition," she suggests. "You and me versus Marinette and Adrien. The team that finds the better eatery wins. Stakes are the cost of the meal." She smiles sunnily at Marinette as she catches up. "You two in? Good. Let's go, Nino." She snatches the boy's wrist and drags them out of the gym. "See ya, suckers!"

Marinette gapes after them, and her heart leaps into her throat as she looks back at Adrien. She should confess now, she knows.

"Sh-shall we?" she asks instead, timidly, her nerves failing after a painful stretch of silence and watching Adrien stare blankly at the door.

He jerks out of his thoughts. "Sorry, you said something?" he asks, sounding apologetic and familiarly embarrassed, though she can't place who he sounds like.

"W-we're... eatery? We're looking f-for an eatery," Marinette says uncertainly, daring to meet his eyes.

Adrien blinks, his lashes long and light. "Oh. Is..." He shakes his head slightly, as though to clear it. "You're right, sorry, I'm just..." He can't seem to find the words to finish his sentence, which trails off as he avoids her gaze.

"I-love-you," she blurts, suddenly and impulsively, struck by his sudden absentmindedness, by this side of him that she's never seen before.

He freezes. So does she, all but her heart, which races like a train toward a crumbling bridge, pounding a fierce tattoo against her ribcage and forcing the breath out of her lungs.

"Oh," he says, and his eyes are wide. "Marinette."

She can't look at him. Her eyes drop from his, color flooding her cheeks.

"Marinette," he repeats, and his voice is bewildered and miserable and so regretful when he continues, "I'm so sorry, Marinette, I— I'm sorry, I can't."

This time she really does freeze, her heart and lungs dropping away. It's difficult still for her to breathe, but now it's because she's forgotten how. "N-no, of course not," she hears someone say, and then, "I'll go." And her joints move stiffly, pivoting away from her shattered heart, feeling like a marionette with snipped strings learning to walk on its own.

If he calls for her, she can't hear him over the dull roar in her ears. She walks, down the steps of the collège, across the street, straight past the bakery, and sinks shakily onto a bench to hide her head in her hands.

"Still worrying about me, princess?"

Her shoulders tense. She glares up at Chat Noir as he sidles onto the bench beside her, but there is no force behind her look. Still, perhaps because it's daytime, or because her own heart has just been shattered, her response is biting and cruel. "Someone got over his crush fast."

His smirk drops immediately. " _It wasn't a crush,_ " he grits, his voice already every bit as ragged as it was last night. He doesn't mean it as an accusation, but that's what it feels like, and Marinette is reminded that she confessed because of Chat Noir, _for_ Chat Noir.

"This is your fault," she tells him, dully, dropping her head back into her hands.

"What? Why? _How?_ "

He sounds so bewildered and panicked, and of course he wouldn't know. He's just as heartbroken as she is— _and it's her fault._

"Marinette?"

She leans toward the careful hand on her trembling shoulder, unable to help herself, pressing her wet cheek into his fingers as she struggles to breathe. When he wraps his other arm around her shoulders in a tentative hug, she folds into him, unable to stifle her sobs, her wails.

He holds her, this boy whose heart she broke and pieced clumsily back together less than twenty-four hours ago. Her fingers find no purchase in his suit— as they shouldn't, not in magical kwami-made fabric— and they slide down his chest, until her arms finally wrap around his waist so she can cling to her own sleeves.

She's still crying when her phone buzzes. She tries to ignore it.

"You should get that," Chat Noir says gently. Marinette peels her face from his chest reluctantly, slowly unwraps her limbs. He pulls away, too, his hands retreating from her back to her shoulders as she unclasps her bag and withdraws her phone.

It's several missed calls from Alya, culminating in two texts. One is an address: the other reads, [you two gotta pick up your phones! come pay for our lunch or else :P]

"Friend of yours?" Chat Noir asks. His hands are still on her shoulders, cradling gently. (She doesn't want to think about how similar it is to how he holds Ladybug, or how different. He cares about Marinette, but he doesn't love her like he loves Ladybug, and now that she knows the difference it's glaringly obvious.)

"Yeah," Marinette replies, softly. "We were... she helped get me alone with a f-friend—" Are they still friends? Her throat clogs with anxiety until Chat Noir's hands squeeze on her shoulders.

"Alone with a friend," he repeats, coaxingly.

Marinette nods, looking up at him. His eyes are steady. "I confessed. To him."

"And he rejected you." It's a sorrowful statement, not a question, sympathetic but not pitying. She inhales, shakily, drawing solace from his understanding.

"We were getting lunch," she realizes suddenly, her voice despairing. How is she supposed to face him now?

"You don't have to," Chat Noir says immediately. "I still haven't seen my Lady."

Of course he hasn't. She can't quite keep all the guilt from her face. "What will you do when you see her?"

His lips twitch into a sad smile. "The same thing I always do. I'll love her, and I'll protect her as best as I can. What about you, though, little lady?"

She can't help but mirror his smile, grateful, even, that he still loves Ladybug. But then, doesn't she still love Adrien? _What a stubborn thing love is._ "You're strong, Chat Noir," she tells him as she stands.

"No, I just do what I must." They hesitate. Marinette is reluctant to leave, and Chat Noir— "Can I come again, tonight? To see you?" There is aching vulnerability in his voice, wrenching at her heart.

"I-I said you could, didn't I?" she points out, looking away from him, her shoulders raised defensively. She's entertained the idea of going out with Chat Noir in bursts between her adoration for Adrien— how could she have not, when Chat Noir is nearly as attractive as Adrien, and perpetually in skintight leather?— and she wants to love him even more, now that Adrien is no longer an option. True, she knows Adrien's name and schedule and favorite color, but she knows Chat Noir's lips on her hand and hand on her waist and footsteps on the rooftops.

"Thank you," he murmurs, and turns her around and shoves her gently in the direction of school. "Bye-bye, Marinette."

When she glances over her shoulder, he's gone.

Adrien is waiting nervously by his limousine in front of the Lycée when she gets back, his hair perhaps a little neater than it was in the morning. "You're back," he says, quietly. "I'm... are you okay?"

"I'm fine," Marinette lies, pasting a smile onto her face.

Adrien glances between her and his limousine, looking torn. "I, eugh, forgot to let Nathalie know about lunch, so I have to go," he tells her. "Apologize to Alya and Nino for me?"

"O-of course. I'll, um, see you later."

He smiles hesitantly as he disappears into the limousine. Marinette's heart flips and trips and falls and sinks, because she hoped for just a moment that she might have been able to love Chat Noir.

But Chat Noir is not Adrien, and her heart is stubborn.


	3. of commiseration

She's sitting in the park, her face hidden in her hands, when he finds her. What would Chat Noir say, if he had no idea what Adrien had done? His ears and tail twitch anxiously, fed vaguely through Plagg mirroring his emotions.

"Still worrying about me, princess?" Chat Noir finally asks, sidling onto the bench beside Marinette.

Marinette's shoulders tense, and she turns to glare at him, but there's no force to it. Still, her words rake into still-open wounds: "Someone got over his crush fast."

His Chat Noir smirk drops immediately— it was forced anyway. He didn't know what to expect from her, but her biting response is so unlike his image of her that he gives her a swift once-over to make sure she hasn't been evilized. Is it really Adrien's rejection alone that fuels her cruelty? " _It wasn't a crush,_ " he manages to bite out, his voice already every bit as ragged as it was last night.

"This is your fault," she says back, dully, dropping her head back into her hands.

That catches him off guard and sets his heart racing. "What? Why? _How?_ "

Her shoulders tremble.

"Marinette?" He puts a careful hand on her shoulder.

She doesn't look at him, only turns her head toward his hand and presses her cheek to his fingers. He wraps his other arm carefully around her narrow shoulders, and she folds into him, her tears dripping from her cheeks to his suit, her thin arms wrapping around his waist as she keens.

When her phone buzzes, long minutes later, she ignores it.

"You should get that," he tells her gently, and Marinette peels her face from his chest slowly, her limbs unwrapping from his torso. He pulls away, too, his hands resting on her shoulders and giving her space to dig her phone from her little bag.

"Friend of yours?" Chat Noir asks, though Adrien has a strong idea of who it might be.

"Yeah. We were... she helped me get alone with a f-friend—" Her breath hitches. He hears whimpers from her throat.

He squeezes her shoulders. "Alone with a friend," he repeats, coaxingly.

Marinette nods and finally looks up at him, her blue eyes glazed with tears. "I confessed. To him."

"And he rejected you." It's a sorrowful statement, bordering on a confession of his own.

She inhales, shakily, and then gasps. "We were getting lunch," she realizes, and her voice is soaked in panic and despair.

"You don't have to," he says thoughtlessly, as though Adrien is someone else. "I still haven't seen my Lady."

Her expression changes indefinably. "What will you do when you see her?"

His lips twitch into a sad smile. "The same thing I always do. I'll love her, and I'll protect her as best as I can. What about you, though, little lady?"

She smiles back, just a little, though her cheeks are still flushed and her eyes are rimmed with red. "You're strong, Chat Noir," she tells him, standing. His hands fall from her shoulders.

"No, I just do what I must." They hesitate, and then the words bursts from his lips: "Can I come again, tonight? To see you?" There is embarrassing vulnerability in his voice, but he doesn't take back the question.

"I-I said you could, didn't I?" she says, looking away from him, her shoulders raised defensively.

He smiles as he stands and whispers fervently, "Thank you." Then he spins her around and gives her a gentle push in the direction of school. "Bye-bye, Marinette," he calls, vaulting up and away.

When he's Adrien again, Plagg retreats into a cheese-laden pocket and his cell phone buzzes angrily with missed calls and texts from Nathalie. He rushes down the steps of the collège with an assortment of excuses, only to spot Marinette and veer toward her.

"You're back," he says, quietly, nervously, wondering if he should have just gone, but unable to help his concern. "I'm... are you okay?"

"I'm fine," Marinette tells him, smiling far too brightly for someone who was crying little more than a minute ago. Her eyes are still red-rimmed, he notices guiltily as he glances between her and the Gorilla, pulling up stolidly beside him.

"I, eugh, forgot to let Nathalie know about lunch, so I have to go," he decides suddenly, and he isn't even lying, though he might have bargained with the woman before Marinette's confession. "Apologize to Alya and Nino for me?"

Her reply is almost grateful. "O-of course. I'll, ah, see you later."

He smiles hesitantly at her as he climbs into the limousine and watches her as they pull away.

"A classmate?" Nathalie asks, tapping at her tablet, her brows furrowed.

"We were looking for somewhere to eat," Adrien tells her. "The four of us. She circled back for me to see if I could make it." He doesn't bother saying the obvious.

* * *

It's even more difficult to talk to Marinette after lunch. He drifts through Adrien Agreste's life mechanically, even though he's dying to be Chat Noir, dying to talk to Marinette, dying to know what she sees in Adrien.

He waves goodbye to her after school, but if she sees him she doesn't react to the motion, and his gut twists at the thought that she might not be his friend anymore.

"Plagg, claws out," he finally whispers, after a photo shoot and a piano lesson and dinner.

"You better have Camembert for me when we're back," Plagg yawns, but folds into the ring as easily as ever.

Chat Noir escapes the mansion and beelines for Marinette's home. The instant he sees her, he calls: "Good evening, little lady!"

She spots him with unexpected ease and smiles and waves from her deck chair. He can't help but grin back, fiercely, as he leaps over the final gap in the building to her. "You seem better."

"So do you."

"Me- _ouch_."

"You still haven't seen her."

He cocks a brow at her certainty. "How would you know?"

"All of Paris knows when you two see each other."

He sighs, leaning against the spool table and quickly regretting it when it skids clumsily across the balcony under his weight. "I— eugh! I suppose you're right. Not by either of our faults, of course!" he rushes to add.

"Of course not!" Marinette agrees, sounding vaguely indignant at the thought. He's comforted by her faith in him and Ladybug.

Silence. Marinette squints at her homework under the dim glow of her ornamental lights. Adrien settles on the ledge he'd landed on and toys with Chat Noir's belt moodily, catching glimpses of Ladybug from the corner of his eye and finding only Marinette. He needs to figure out how to word his question— _why Adrien?_

In the end, he blurts the question when her eyes shimmer just like Ladybug's. "What do you like about the boy?"

She glances up at him, startled. "What?"

"Your... whoever it was that turned you down."

"What do I— what do _you_ like about Ladybug?" Marinette asks defensively.

"I asked you first," Adrien pouts, casting his gaze over the shadowy park below, "but how could I not love her? My brave, beautiful Lady." His eyes dart back at Marinette. "So? What do you like about yours?"

"His name is _Adrien_ , and he's... he's not mine." His heart jolts with the utterance of his name and throbs in sympathetic, guilty pain. "He is so smart, and does so much, and is so handsome and _wonderful_."

There's a breathless reverence in her voice that he absolutely despises. "Smart and handsome? Sounds like me," he jokes dryly, unable to resist dropping the hint.

Marinette snorts, but she sounds fond. "You wish, kitty."

* * *

His visits become regular affairs, and he ventures to the bakery every night he can spare the energy.

"I'm behind on schoolwork," he explains, four school nights into their odd rendezvous, slinging a nondescript black bag from his shoulder. (It's brandless, unlike his usual schoolbag.) He realizes as he's pulling his papers out that his name is on some of them, and rolls onto the roof behind the chimney.

"Are you alright?" Marinette calls, the deck chair squeaking.

"Fine," he calls back. "This is fine."

Her head pops around the chimney. "Are you... staying back there? Don't you need a light?"

He smirks and taps his mask. "Night vision."

Marinette grumbles and withdraws. "Convenient."

They've already fallen into nights of comfortable silence. Sometimes Marinette will complain about yet another wrong which Chloé or Lila has committed, and Adrien will wince while Chat Noir listens. Sometimes Chat Noir will tell stories of the latest akuma (or rather, how beautifully powerful Ladybug was during the attack). Sometimes Marinette mourns how little she knows of Adrien, and sometimes Chat Noir tells her, "You should get over him," but he really means, "I should get over Ladybug."

"It's almost like you want her to fall in love with Chat Noir," Plagg comments idly one night as he gulps down a plate of Camembert and belches.

"What if I do?" Adrien mumbles into his pillow.

It's confusing. Ladybug still makes his heart race, even after so much time spent in Marinette's company, but every akuma Ladybug and Chat Noir fight together drives his love deeper into his heart.

At the same time, he's gotten to know Marinette quite well, and his heart warms at the thought of her. Knowing that she loves him has made him more aware of her in a way he didn't quite expect: his eyes have fallen more than once on the sky glowing against her hair and the delicate curve of her neck and the frankly _adorable_ way her legs wiggle when she gets excited.

"Why not just ask Marinette out at school?" Plagg garbles around a mouthful of cheese.

"Because that's not _me_ ," Adrien complains, rolling onto his back. "Not _all_ of me. What's the point of asking her out if she can't also love Chat Noir?"

"Whatever you say, Adrien," the kwami shrugs, curling up on his cheese platter. "G'night."

Adrien doesn't bother replying, instead staring at the ceiling high over his bed and wondering. Maybe Plagg is right— maybe he _should_ just ask Marinette out, especially since Ladybug is... not an option.

Still, telling Marinette to get over Adrien amounted to little more than telling himself to get over Ladybug, and it hasn't worked for either of them.

 _You don't have to get over me,_ Ladybug whispers in his ear, startling him. He tilts his head, and Marinette is the one gazing at him, her eyes blue and bright, a familiar smirk playing around her lips. _We've been dancing around each other the whole time._ She kisses him, and his chest swells, warming his whole body and waking him up.

He blinks, his heart still pounding. His dream drips through his mind until he remembers nothing but the soft feeling of lips on his, even as his mind scrabbles to keep whatever revelation he had attained. He's left with a curious sensation of regret, coupled with a deep satisfaction that curls in his chest and stays there, purring like a cat.

This time it's Marinette's lips which catch his eye, Marinette's slender shoulders which pull the words from Adrien's mouth in a moment of whim or stupidity or perfect clarity: "Go out with me, Marinette?"


	4. of consolation

" _Salut_ , little Lady."

Marinette looks up from her sketchbook. "Back so soon, Chat Noir?"

He grins. "It's been a whole day, hasn't it?"

She smiles back, distantly. "It has."

"And school?"

Marinette drops her gaze back to her sketchbook. "I went to school," she tells him neutrally, shoving aside memories of Adrien avoiding her gaze and Alya pressing her for details over lunch. " _You_ still haven't seen Ladybug."

It’s a diversion, and it works. Chat Noir laughs wryly. "Hawkmoth has been quiet," he points out. His eyes glow at her when she peeks at him.

"We don't really know them, do we," Marinette blurts, sounding and feeling defeated.

"Who, Hawkmoth?"

" _Adrien_. And Ladybug." She doesn't look at Chat Noir.

"What do you mean?"

Marinette grits her teeth. "We don't know the people we love. Doesn't that bother you?"

Chat Noir is silent for while. When Marinette finally looks at him, he is watching her, his eyes narrowed. "Of course it bothers me,” he hisses coldly. “Does that mean I love Ladybug any less? Or do _you_ love your Adrien any less, just because you don’t know him?”

Marinette flinches. “Of course not,” she croaks. “I just… I just wish I knew him better. Don’t you?” Her voice leaks painful curiosity, because for all that Chat Noir had pestered Ladybug for her identity, he hasn’t questioned her for at least a month.

His eyes glow in the darkness, flickering whenever he blinks. “Yes,” he finally tells her, softly.

“You would love her less,” Marinette tells him, sadly, with all the certainty that comes with the thought of him finding out that he’s been pouring his heart to his Lady, that she has another love.

“I would love her more,” Chat Noir snaps, bristling. “Who are you to be so certain of what Ladybug is like? Would you love Adrien any less, if you knew him?”

Marinette feels her face burning, wondering frantically if she’s shown her hand. “I… you’re right, sorry.”

They sit in stiff silence for several minutes, Marinette’s gaze fixed on her sketchbook as her hand draws aimless circles.

“Chat Noir,” she whispers. “What… what do you think of me?”

Silence. Marinette looks up, slowly, wondering if he’d left— but no, he’s still there, staring at her, looking… panicked?

“Princess,” he croaks, “you’re sweet as a cake, but you’re not my Lady.”

What? Oh. _Oh._ “That wasn’t what I was asking!” she exclaims.

He sags, looking relieved. “Oh, thank… good, that’s good.” He hesitates. “May I ask the same of you?”

“You’re no Adrien,” Marinette fires back, dryly, but then her brain catches up with her mouth and she says deliberately, “but… you’re not as… reckless as I thought you were, Chat Noir.”

He lets out a snort of surprise. “Me, reckless? What, because I’m a superhero?” He mimics the pose of the statue in the park, earning a giggle from Marinette. “Does that make Ladybug reckless, too?”

“She’s much more responsible, I’m sure,” Marinette tells him with a straight a face as she can manage when she _is_ Ladybug, but she can’t hold back her wry laughter.

He joins in with oddly familiar laughter, even though Marinette is sure she’s never heard him laugh quite like this. “Thank you for your time, little Lady,” he says fondly as he hops to his feet, and Marinette is suddenly struck by the crinkle of his eyes over his genuinely warm smile. “It’s late… I should go.”

“You don’t have to if you don’t want to,” Marinette blurts, standing as well, because she is enjoying his company much more than she thought she would, and then she flushes at how eager she sounds.

His smile twitches into a smirk. “A- _paw_ -logies, princess, but I’m afraid I have business to attend to. Maybe tomorrow?”

She scoffs as she hugs him farewell, but he stiffens under her embrace and she backs away so quickly that she stumbles. “Ah, s-sorry, I—”

“N-no, I was just surprised!” he stammers back, and Marinette wonders if it is a blush that she sees coloring his cheeks under his mask. “I, eugh, good night, princess.”

“‘Til tomorrow, Chat Noir,” she calls after his retreating back, and smiles when he lifts a hand in acknowledgement.

* * *

The next time Ladybug sees Chat Noir again, about a week after he’d confessed to her, he works with her seamlessly, as though he had never breathed a word of his love. He teases and jokes, and his puns are as awful as ever, and Marinette almost forgets that she ever broke his heart.

“How did you do it?” she blurts to him on another one of his evening visits.

“Do what?” he calls back, distracted, sprawled somewhere out of sight behind her chimney, working on homework. (The revelation that he’s also a student came several days ago, after he’d admitted that he was a little behind on schoolwork.)

“With Ladybug.”

There’s a pause, during which Marinette imagines him perhaps finishing off a sentence and putting down his pencil, and then his head pops up over the side of the chimney with a playful frown. “You’re going to have to ela- _purr_ -ate, princess. Do you mean the superhero thing? Be- _claw_ -se I’m afraid that’s strictly confidential.”

Marinette crosses her arms even as she struggles to keep the smile off her face. “You know what I mean,” she sighs at him.

His frown slides from teasing to legitimate. “I could ask the same of you, princess. How is model-boy these days?”

Marinette feels a flush warming her cheeks. “We’ve talked about this, Chat Noir,” she reminds him quietly.

He stares down at her a while longer, huffs a little huff, and disappears from sight. Marinette hears rustling papers, and then he leaps back up onto the balcony proper and takes his now-customary place across from her at her small spool table, tossing his nondescript black bag aside. “You should get over him,” he tells her, quietly.

Marinette flinches. It’s not the first time he’s said it— that had happened several days ago, before he had started bringing his homework— but the words still sting. “It’s not that easy,” she protests. “You know it’s not.”

He regards her sadly. “Yes.”

Really, Marinette thinks, it would be so convenient to simply fall in love with Chat Noir. She knows him better now, after a week of regular visits: she knows his favorite color (light blue, like Adrien), and his favorite school subject (physics, like Adrien), and his least favorite number (five, for the minutes he has between Cataclysm and unmasking). If she could love Chat Noir like she loves Adrien, she could simply accept his feelings as Ladybug.

Love is never so easy, of course, but it would be nice.

Tikki pokes her head out of Marinette’s clutch after Chat Noir is gone. “You like him,” she says bluntly.

“He’s my partner,” Marinette tells Tikki automatically. “Of course I care about him.”

Tikki tuts. “You know what I mean.”

Marinette shakes her head, stubborn. “He’s not Adrien,” she insists, and her heart rabbits away in her ribcage.

* * *

“Go out with me, Marinette?” Adrien asks, and Marinette’s reply is an immediate and thoughtless, “Of course.”

She wants to say more— why? how? what are the rules?— but the questions all jumble in her throat, tying her tongue into knots.

Adrien looks surprised, too, at himself, but her answer lights his face with a smile Marinette has seen him make only once before, a smile that she remembers lit under a cloudy sky. He offers his hand, and she takes it and steps cautiously, disbelievingly, to his side.

“Now kiss,” Alya stage-whispers. Marinette spares a glance at the peanut gallery in time to receive a thumbs-up from Alya and a vaguely suggestive grin from Nino, complete with eyebrow action. Adrien laughs, and Alya and Nino go back to whatever new film or writing project they’re collaborating on as they make their way out of the Lycée for lunch.

“ _Can_ I kiss you?” Adrien asks, quietly.

Marinette’s face is still coloring. She fights the urge to duck her head as she mumbles a bashful, “Yes, _please_ ,” lifts her face, leans up as he leans down, and fights not to squeal like the love-struck girl she is when he pecks her chastely on the lips.

“Atta girl, Marinette,” Alya calls cheerfully, accompanied by Nino’s wolf-whistle. Marinette buries her face in Adrien’s sleeve and hopes wildly she doesn’t burn him.

At lunch, though, after Adrien has disappeared into a limo and Nino has pleaded siblings to feed, Alya pounces. “Didn’t he reject you?”

“Yes,” Marinette says, truthfully.

“But he just asked you out.” Alya lifts a hand and closes her eyes, pondering. “Have you two been talking outside of class? When I’m _not around_?” She sounds indignant, but her suspicion is false, and Marinette tells her so.

“No,” she says, dryly. “Alya, I swear nothing has happened that you don’t know about.” Well, not between her and Adrien, at least. Just… his sudden proposal. Her face is still warm.

Alya growls in frustration. “I don’t like this,” she fumes. “It’s too sudden. I mean, good on you, girl, but something about this _stinks_.”

“He’s not like that,” Marinette reminds her friend.

Alya huffs. “I know, but I worry anyway. I swear I’ll _murder_ him if I find out he’s just stringing you along or something.”

Marinette worries, too, burning with an uncertain, uncomfortable need to know _why, why, why_.

He’s beaming when he sees her again, out of control and so blissful that she can’t bring herself to ask. She can’t keep her own smile off her face, either, especially not when he asks so bashfully if he can hug her, holding her arms out for him.

They’re swept to class before she can work up the nerve to ask him. Even at the end of the day, even as he’s gazing at her softly with an enigmatic smile playing around his lips, she’s speechless. “Later, Marinette!” he calls as he finally dashes away, an undefinable tone in his voice.

“You’re not as happy as I thought you’d be,” Chat Noir comments that night, looking her over carefully, reminding Marinette vividly of a cat fussing over their young.

“I’m happy!” It sounds like a lie. “I just… it’s hard to talk to him.”

“But you love him,” Chat states, calmly. “Don’t you?”

Marinette stares. “Y-yes, I… Didn’t you say I should get over him?” she stutters. “Why are you…?”

He leans forward, his eyes searching hers. “Marinette,” he says earnestly. “Are you okay with him?”

She scrambles for words. “Y-you haven’t used my name in a while,” she points out distantly.

Chat Noir’s shoulders tense. “Is it?”

 _Oh_ , Marinette realizes, feeling herself lean forward. “Chat Noir,” she starts hesitantly, “Do you… still love Ladybug?”

“Yes,” Chat Noir admits quietly, and then more quietly still, “Can I kiss you?”

“Yes, please,” Marinette breathes.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> THIS CHAPTER HAS FANART AND I AM FOREVER GRATEFUL [♥♥♥](http://soundofez.tumblr.com/post/137157571333/)


	5. to continuation

No one should be allowed to be this happy, Adrien thinks wildly. The smile on his face is painfully wide, and only grows wider when she takes his hand.

“Now kiss,” Alya stage-whispers, and Adrien laughs, embarrassed and giddy.

“ _Can_ I kiss you?” he asks Marinette, quietly, once Alya and Nino have gone back to talking about… he’s too distracted to finish that thought.

Her face is brilliantly red, her shoulders tucked under her ears even as she mumbles, “Yes, _please_ ,” and he brushes his grinning lips against hers.

“Atta girl, Marinette,” Alya says cheerfully alongside Nino’s wolf-whistle. Marinette presses her face into Adrien’s sleeve and stays there until he climbs into the limousine, where he presses an affectionate kiss to her hairline.

“Nathalie,” he starts as the Gorilla drives away, “Can I have lunch with my friends tomorrow?”

Nathalie doesn’t reply immediately, but he can hear her tapping at her tablet as he waves goodbye to Marinette, Nino, and Alya. “You may bring _one_ friend to the mansion tomorrow. We will prepare a meal for them.”

It’ll have to do, Adrien thinks, settling back in his seat. Nino he would rather not risk around his father again, Alya he doesn’t know well enough, and Marinette… Is it too early to bring her to meet his father?

He’s still toying with the idea after lunch, when he asks Marinette bashfully if he can hug her. (She opens her arms for him, and he hopes he isn’t too eager when he wraps his own around her, giggling.)

The giddiness comes to a grating halt when he realizes, after classes, that he doesn’t know how to talk to her as Adrien, when he turns around in his seat and opens his mouth to say something, _anything_. “Later, Marinette,” he finally tells her, and flees to hide his reddening face.

The nice thing about being Chat Noir (one of the nice things about being Chat Noir, at least) is that Chat Noir can talk to Marinette, and so Chat Noir makes his way to Marinette’s balcony that evening a little more eagerly than he has on previous nights. Marinette isn’t there at first, but that’s okay, that’s why he brings his homework with him, and so he settles behind the chimney to wait.

She emerges after perhaps an hour, by which time night has fully settled over Paris and lit the Eiffel Tower on its way in, and he pops his head over the side of the chimney eagerly to greet her. “Good evening, princess!”

Marinette shrieks and trips and tries to whirl around and only barely manages to catch herself on her spool table. “Chat Noir!” she exclaims. “Don’t scare me like that!”

“Sincerest a- _paw_ -logies, little lady,” Chat Noir purrs, even as Adrien gives her a careful once-over to make sure she hasn’t hurt herself. “How was your day? Mine was _purr_ -fectly _boring_.” That’s only half a lie: his school day was a surprise and a half, and a good one at that, but the rest of it was business and extra tutoring as usual, and anyway he needs to hear her side of it, not his.

“Adrien asked me out,” Marinette sighs, perching on a seat beside her table. “I said yes, of course.”

He blinks at her melancholic tone. “You’re not as happy as I thought you’d be,” he notes, his gaze narrowed in uncertainty as he looks her over again, more carefully. _What is Adrien doing wrong?_

“I’m happy!” It sounds like a lie. She must hear it, too, because she struggles to explain it: “I just… it’s hard to talk to him.”

It’s hard to talk to _her_ , he wants to say, but he holds his tongue. Instead, with forced calm, he asks, “But you love him. Don’t you?”

Marinette stares. “Y-yes, I…” She falters, continues vaguely, “Didn’t you say I should get over him? Why are you…?”

He leans upward. He’s not sure when he made his way to her feet, but he’s here now, halfway between kneeling and standing, and her eyes are blue and bewildered. “Marinette,” he starts, and his insecurity spills across his tongue before he can hold it back. “Are you okay with him?”

She is lost for words, at least at first. “Y-you haven’t used my name in a while,” she points out distractedly.

Not since he broke her heart one week ago, he realizes, his shoulders tensing. _Princess_ and _little Lady_ roll off Chat Noir’s tongue more easily, but now he is acutely aware of how alike Adrien and Chat Noir sound. “Is it?”

Marinette drifts closer. “Chat Noir,” she says, slowly. “Do you… still love Ladybug?”

His heart drives the breath from his lungs. “Yes,” he admits quietly, but he loves Marinette, too, so much. “Can I kiss you?”

“Yes, please,” she breathes, and presses her lips to his.

He should probably be annoyed, he thinks distantly, that Marinette is kissing someone she doesn’t think is her boyfriend. It’s hard to remember that, though, when his lips are on hers, or the other way around, when he is drowning in his love for her and floundering in his love for Ladybug. (He cannot compare his loves. They do not align.)

The beeping of his ring catches his attention seconds before he can recover. “D-don’t look!” Adrien exclaims, clapping his hands over Marinette’s eyes as they try to flicker open and doing his very best to ignore the tickling of her eyelashes fluttering against his palm.

“Wh-what—?”

She must feel the wind breeze around him as Plagg flees the miraculous ring, because she goes very still. The kwami, meanwhile, scrubs at his little mouth with a paw as he complains, “Blugh! Humans are gross! Why don’t you just groom each other like _normal_ creatures?”

“Seriously, Plagg?” Adrien asks dryly.

“Plagg…? Who is… did you transform back?” Marinette asks, bewildered.

“Eugh, y-yes. I, uh… no kissing, I guess, unless I’m out of transformation.” He ignores how strange it feels to say the words to someone who isn’t Plagg or Ladybug.

Marinette sits quietly, her eyes still behind his fingers. “Then… I’ll keep my eyes shut. Promise.”

Adrien’s heart throbs as Marinette pulls his hands slowly from her face. “Princess,” he whispers to her closed eyes, leaning powerlessly down to her, “I’m honored, but—”

“Keep this up, and you’re going home without me,” Plagg butts in irritably. “Where’s my cheese?”

“—but, well, _that_ ,” Adrien grimaces. “This had better do for now,” he tells the little kwami, pulling away from Marinette as he offers Plagg a slice of Camembert from his shirt pocket. “Plagg, claws out.”

“ _No more kissing_ ,” Plagg insists, but Adrien can feel the power swirling through his veins anyway.

“You can open your eyes,” he tells Marinette after half a minute, glancing down at gloved hands.

She does, blinking them slowly open. “I should probably break up with Adrien, shouldn’t I?” she asks, and her voice is resigned.

“Only if you want to, princess,” Chat Noir says, but Adrien’s heart clenches.

Marinette pouts up at him. “Silly cat,” she grumbles. “We… are we dating?” She sounds painfully uncertain.

“Only if you want to, princess,” Chat Noir repeats, but he feels lighter.

“What is that supposed to mean?” Marinette complains, standing. Even with her back straight, she only comes up to his chin, he notices abruptly, and Adrien has to pause to collect his wits.

“It means that I will keep doing this—” he finally says, and gestures around them— “that is, I will keep coming to see you until the night you tell me to stop.” The words sound terrifyingly final. “Whether or not you choose for us to date, I mean,” he clarifies, feeling his voice tighten, because he’s not sure if he’s talking about Marinette and Chat Noir or Marinette and Adrien.

She stares up at him. “And Adrien?” she asks after a moment, quietly, morosely.

He considers her. “I think, princess, it might be best if you spoke to him yourself.”

Marinette gestures violently. “But when? _How_? I can barely talk to him, Chat Noir….” She sounds very close to despair, and Adrien has a sudden, fierce urge to transform back, despite that he just avoided accidentally showing her who he is.

“He’ll make time,” Adrien decides aloud. “You are his girlfriend, after all.” He feels warmly possessive about it.

“And if he doesn’t?” Marinette asks dubiously.

He smirks at her as he leaps backwards onto her chimney. “Then you should _definitely_ dump him,” he says cheerfully, because it’s true. He’d deserve it, if he can’t make time for her. “I should get back before Plagg gets too annoyed. Good night, princess.”

* * *

Monsieur Dupain shares a larger physical resemblance to the Gorilla than Adrien remembered. His spine straightens automatically, the greeting he had prepared for Marinette withering on his lips. “G-good morning, sir!”

“Good morning!” Monsieur Dupain replies cheerfully, beaming down at him with a brightness Adrien thinks Marinette must have inherited. “You’re Marinette’s classmate, no? The one who came over to play Ultimate Mecha Strike III?”

“That was me,” Adrien smiles back, relaxing. “I, eugh, wanted to talk to Marinette?”

Monsieur Dupain steps back, beckoning. “Of course! Come in, Marinette’s still upstairs.”

Adrien follows the man up to the living floor. “Who was it, Papa?” he hears Marinette ask, and pokes his head over Monsieur Dupain’s shoulder, grinning.

“ _Salut_ , Marinette!” he greets, feeling his smile widen eagerly as she leaps to her feet.

“Adrien!” she exclaims. “I, ah, let me bag my grab— grab my bag!”

“Oh— okay,” he calls after her as she trips up the steps to her attic room. He’s caught off guard, again, by how nervous Marinette is around him— no, around _Adrien_.

“It’s good to see you again, Adrien,” Monsieur Dupain says, his hand engulfing Adrien’s shoulder when he pats it. “I need to open the shop. Have a good day at school, okay?”

“Yes, sir, you, too,” Adrien smiles back, his shoulder tingling.

“Adrien,” Madame Cheng says musingly.

“Yes, ma’am,” Adrien replies automatically, turning to her as Monsieur Dupain shuffles away.

“You wouldn’t happen to be the same Adrien my uncle spoke with when he was here?” the woman asks.

“Cheng-shifu?” Adrien blurts, surprised. “Y-yes, that was me.”

“Then... can you help me with my Chinese?” Madame Cheng asks smoothly in Mandarin Chinese.

“I should be asking you that, _ah yi_!” Adrien exclaims in kind, astonished.

The woman titters. “Oh, I’m not that good,” she continues, still in Chinese. “When I... was a child, my parents— Marinette’s grandparents— they didn’t teach me Chinese, because they were learning French. I still... picked up a little bit, but… I don’t know very many words.”

She’s a little more hesitant than his _laoshi_ , but so far as he can tell her Chinese is flawless. He’s about to tell her as much when Marinette blurts, “Mama, I didn’t know you spoke Chinese!”

Madame Cheng replies in Chinese. “She said, ‘Just a little,’” Adrien translates, grinning. “Actually, I was wondering if Marinette could have lunch with me?” Well, he _was_ , he just didn’t realize he was going to ask her parents. Adrien has been more restrained since Chat Noir began giving him the chance to let go, but they are still the same person.

“Of course,” Marinette’s mother giggles. “All ready to go? Have a good day, then.” Then, with a mischievous-looking smile to Adrien, in Mandarin again, “Please look after her.”

He bows automatically to her on their way out, Marinette ushering him in front of her. “What did she say?” she asks him, her face flaming.

“Just to take care,” Adrien half-lies. His face feels warm, too. He offers her his hand, and she takes it, smiling tremulously.

“And l-lunch?”

Oh. His free hand rises to smack his face. “I’m sorry, I should have asked you first,” he apologizes. “Do— _do_ you want to have lunch with me?”

“Of course I do!” she exclaims, as Monsieur Dupain calls farewell to her by the side door of the bakery. She tacks on her own goodbye, but her eyes stay on Adrien. “What, um, what were you talking about with mama? In Chinese?”

Adrien smiles. “I think your great-uncle told her about me,” he explains. “She said she wanted to practice Chinese with me?”

Marinette bounces (nervously?) as they stop at the crosswalk between the bakery and the school. “I remember,” she says thoughtfully. “She said that she didn’t really know Chinese, in primary school, when there was a heritage project. I didn’t really pay attention? I just thought it was neat how she and Papa made such good cakes for the bakery.”

“Because you design, right?” Adrien smiles a little wryly at the memory of the bowler hat he had to wear for the competition.

“Yeah.”

They pause at the steps of the collège. “Marinette, do you like me?” Adrien blurts, feeling self-conscious, but he needs to know.

“Of course I do!” But she bites her lip. “I— it’s just. Whiplash, I think? I didn’t think you… I don’t know. It’s hard to…”

“To know how to talk to me,” Adrien finishes, feeling ridiculously stupid. What else did he expect, after a week of— was she avoiding him? She never said so to Chat Noir, but he really wouldn’t be surprised if she were. He just… never noticed. _Because_ of Chat Noir, he realizes, chagrined. He glances down at her, mumbling through the hand that has plastered itself to his jaw, “You really do love me.”

Marinette ducks her head. He can see her ears, a bright pink to match her pants. “Y-yes.”

She’s adorable. “I really want to kiss you,” he admits quietly.

She looks back up at him, still red, nibbling on her lower lip. “Please,” she breathes, and leans up to him.

* * *

Chloé’s screech could shatter windows, Marinette thinks sourly. It’s something of a surprise that the mayor’s daughter hasn’t already found out about her and Adrien, but maybe that’s a testament to how smoothly Adrien has faded into the general body of students.

Or, you know, that she has actually caught them kissing.

“How _dare_ you,” Chloé seethes.

“How dare _you_ ,” Marinette shoots back irritably.

“Chloé,” Adrien begins.

“Adrikins, can’t you see that she’s just _using_ you?” The complete 180 her voice takes is impressive, Marinette notes distantly.

“That would be a trick, considering that _Adrien_ asked me out,” Marinette points out instead, smug.

“Marinette,” Adrien says, and the tone of his voice makes her look at him, startled.

“You don’t believe her—” she starts indignantly, stopping when Adrien shakes his head. She’s suddenly acutely aware of their clasped hands and tries to pull hers away, but he holds on. That’s a good sign, right?

“Thank you for your concern, Chloé,” Adrien says softly. “We can talk about this later, okay? Class is about to start.”

As though they aren’t late to class with alarming regularity, Marinette notes absently, but follows Adrien’s lead in silence, her brain whirring. Did she imagine the hurt in his voice when he said her name?

_You kissed another boy last night and you’re still worried about breaking up?_ a part of her thinks dryly. The rest of her mind hisses, _Shut up!_

She can’t stop worrying about it. “Focus!” Alya hisses during science, rescuing a beaker from Marinette’s distracted hands. “What is going on, girl? Trouble in paradise already? I saw you come in with Adrien and Chloé.”

“Not now,” Marinette mutters, avoiding Mme. Mendeleiev’s sharp eye.

“Lunch?”

“Yes— wait, no! I’m having lunch with Adrien.”

“And he didn’t invite us?” Alya cries, outraged.

Mme. Mendeleiev arches a skeptical brow. “Something you’d like to say, Miss Césaire?”

“Nothing! It’s nothing!” Marinette exclaims, pulling Alya back into her seat.

“I _will_ have answers,” Alya promises lowly, glaring at Adrien, who looks alarmed. Nino, grinning, leans toward him to whisper something.

“Yes, yes, but maybe not now? What were we doing, again?” Marinette pleads.

Alya is seething when lunch rolls around. Marinette is honestly unsure why, but the girl virtually throws herself across their desk to lay a hand on Adrien’s shoulder. “What is this I hear about you stealing Marinette for lunch?” she demands.

Adrien has the same expression as he had after Alya’s outburst in science. “What?”

“Dude, you haven’t even paid us back for the last time we went out,” Nino ribs, though he is clearly more amused than incensed.

“I, uh, wanted to talk to Marinette more?” Adrien admits warily with a glance at Marinette. “We… didn’t really get much of a chance to before school.” Because of Chloé, he doesn’t add, but Marinette thinks it, and makes a face.

Alya’s face twitches into something like suspicion. “Is that all?”

“What else would there bE?” Adrien flinches when Alya vaults into his row to shove her face close to his, squinting critically at him through her glasses.

“Alya, what—” Marinette starts to say, bewildered, but Alya straightens, stabbing two fingers from her eyes toward Adrien’s.

“I’m watching you, model boy,” she warns, and then in the blink of an eye goes from threatening to teasing. “C’mon, Nino, let the lovebirds have their moment.” She ushers Nino out of the classroom ahead of her, snatching her bag as they go, reminding Marinette vividly of how she had shooed Adrien out of her living room this morning.

Chloé storms after Alya, looking incensed and muttering something about too many people disrespecting her precious Adrikins. Adrien and Marinette exchange a glance and shrug. They slip past Chloé and Alya having a shouting match just outside the classroom, though the shouting appears to be more on Chloé’s end of the match; Alya just looks smug.

“Did you need to lock by the stoppers— eugh, s-stop by the lockers?” Marinette claps her hands over her mouth, mortified.

He smirks, not unkindly, and tucks one of his hands into the crook of an elbow. “No, you?”

Marinette ducks her head and lowers her hands. The hand at her elbow brushes its way down to her wrist, leaving tingles in its wake. “No, I don’t,” she mumbles, as their fingers lace together.

The gesture is both comforting and disorienting. She doesn’t deserve his kindness. Or is it kindness? Alya is suspicious, and if Marinette is honest with herself she’s not sure why Adrien asked her out.

“I, um,” Adrien says, surprised, “might have— a slight crush on Ladybug?”

Marinette stares at him, her world tilting. She hadn’t meant to ask, hadn’t even realized as the words had fallen from her mouth, but the answer has stolen her breath.

“I mean, that’s why I turned you down at first,” he babbles on. He’s looking up and away from her, but she can see how red his ears are. “Because it wouldn’t be fair. But— I— I’ve been. Paying more attention. And then I just— it just _happened_.”

Marinette is struck by the tone of his voice, by how sheepish he is, by how, apparently, he has been _paying more attention_ in the week she's been hiding from him. Her heart bubbles with excitement that Adrien has liked her for longer than he knows, and with dread that Adrien likes someone Marinette can’t always be.

“Do you still like Ladybug?” Marinette asks, faintly, trying to bury her inner turmoil.

“ _Yes._ ”

The tone of his voice is reverent and perhaps a little more fervent than Marinette dares to hope. He’s also basically confessed to liking someone else, though, which reminds her of her own secret, the one that’s been squirming into a knot in her belly all day. Their feet have long since carried them onto the steps of the collège, in sight of the waiting limo, but here they are stalled.

“I…”

Adrien says nothing, but his eyes dart to hers as her own dart away.

“I kissed Chat Noir last night.”

He makes a little snort of laughter. Marinette feels her face warm and tries to pull her hand away from his, but his fingers tighten over her knuckles, and she can’t escape.

“You probably think I’m lying—” she starts, realizing how fantastical her claim must seem. She tugs at her hand, but he clings to her insistently.

“No, not at all—” He’s still _laughing_ —

“— Then I’m awful, for kissing—”

“No, no, it’s just—” He pauses to take a shaky breath, amused. “It’s a little silly, isn’t it? I love Ladybug, and you— do you love him? Well, you kissed Chat Noir.”

“I think I do love him,” Marinette blurts, barely thinking, and she hears herself laugh, “And you love Ladybug? Love is a little stronger than a crush, no?”

Adrien freezes. “D-did I say that?” He looks guilty, because of course he doesn’t know that Ladybug is standing beside him, their hands laced together.

“You did,” Marinette beams back. “I mean— I l-love Chat Noir, so we’re even. S-sort of,” she adds, thinking wryly that Adrien doesn’t actually love two different people like she does.

“Yeah, but you _kissed_ him,” Adrien complains, but his tone is light and playful. He’s taking the news about Chat Noir awfully well, really. “Are you dating him, too?”

Marinette bites her lower lip. “Only if I want to,” she mumbles, just as the limousine honks.

“Only if…?” Adrien asks, but he starts moving toward the vehicle, and she follows.

“Only if you don't mind,” she tells him, because Chat Noir understands, because Chat Noir loves Ladybug more than he loves Marinette, just as Marinette loves Adrien more than she loves Chat Noir.

(The thought feels wrong. Marinette doesn't love Adrien more than she loves Chat Noir, necessarily— she loves them both, immeasurably, but she knows she and Chat Noir will be friends no matter what happens, and she won’t hide him from Adrien.)

“I don't mind,” Adrien informs her brightly as they finally reach the limousine.

Marinette’s mouth moves faster than her mind. “Then, for the record, I don't mind if you date Ladybug. If it ever happens.”

Adrien bursts into laughter and presses a kiss to her forehead, one hand settling on her shoulder. “You're very kind, Marinette, but I sincerely doubt that will ever happen,” he tells her.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> welcome to the end of Confessions! it stops here mostly because it's the revision of [a series](http://soundofez.tumblr.com/tagged/confessions/chrono) already on my [tumblr](http://soundofez.tumblr.com/), but! there is a sequel in the works. it'll take a while before i can begin to dream of publishing it, but it will be the patrol fic to this balcony fic and it will bring more Ladybug into the square. in the meantime, i have a handful of sidefics that i'll be editing and putting up as well. :)
> 
> * * *
> 
> **Bonus pinyin of Adrien’s conversation with Sabine**
> 
> Sabine: Nà, nǐ kě bù kě yǐ bāng wǒ xǔe yī diǎ’r hànyǔ ma?
> 
> Adrien: Wǒ yīng gāi wèn nǐ, àyí!
> 
> S: Wǒ, ya, wǒ měi yǒu nà me hǎo. Wǒ… xiǎo shí hòu, wǒ de fùmǔ— Marinette de zǔfùmǔ— tāmen měi jiāo wǒ zhōngwén, yīnwèi tāmen zài xué fǎyǔ. Wǒ hái shì… xué le yī diǎn diǎn, kěshì... wǒ bù zhīdào tài duō zì.
> 
> [ _Marinette interjects._ ]
> 
> S: Jìu yī diǎ’r.
> 
> S: [ _to Adrien, of Marinette_ ] Qǐng hǎo hǎo zhàogù tā.

**Author's Note:**

> originally posted to tumblr [[tag](http://soundofez.tumblr.com/tagged/confessions)] [[chronological](http://soundofez.tumblr.com/tagged/confessions/chrono)]


End file.
